


Sore Loser

by Super_Scene_It



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Super_Scene_It/pseuds/Super_Scene_It
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's idea of fun isn't exactly Johnny's idea of fun. And vice versa.</p><p>
  <i>"I cannot believe this is your definition of fun. What's next, a calc class and a two hour tour of Reed's lab?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Peter leaned forward, "Okay, now that's just rude."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"No, it's sad. Look around you, it's like you're aiming for early retirement."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Chess is an all-age friendly game."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Then explain all the old people."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sore Loser

**Author's Note:**

> i didnt wanna work on my research paper so i wrote this instead whoooops

"This is stupid," Johnny said after a beat.

 

Brows slacken with boredom and chewing on his lower lip like a cheap stick of gum that had long lost its flavor, Johnny looked about as interested in chess as Peter was in Norman Osborn's sex life. But, hey, this is what happens when you give Peter Parker the power to dictate what activities you guys do that day.

 

From across the table, Peter shifted in his seat and rubbed at his nose, the smell of 'grandma' the wind carried from the table over finally taking its toll. "No it's not."

"Yeah, it is." From the tone of his voice, Peter knew it was coming-- how Johnny isn't famous for his two year old tantrums, Peter has no idea. "You're stupid, your stupid face is stupid and this stupid game is stupid." Johnny huffed. "Is this some kind of punishment? If so, way harsh, dude."

"Hey!" Peter snapped, pointing a finger. "You got to choose what we did last time."

"Yeah, but at least I chose something fun!"

 

Flashbacks from the war flooded Peter's head- the deafening music, the flashy lights, the tiny pieces of fabric people passed off as clothing. With the bumping and grinding the dance floor was basically a huge orgy orchestrated by Howard the Duck. But that was all expected. It was when Johnny opened an unlimited tab that things all went to hell.

Peter shuddered at the recollection. "Spending 5 hours in a nightclub isn't exactly what I'd call fun."

He rubbed at his temples with slow circular motions because suddenly it was like the headache from two nights ago was resurfacing. Either that or Elizabeth Taylor's perfume has finally claimed its latest victim.

Johnny's jaw hung, "Dude, are you kidding me? That was the best night of my life!" Then he snickered in a way that was too taunting to be lighthearted, "Remember when you started quoting Hamlet and that chick dumped her drink on you?"

"You know what..." Swinging a foot out to Johnny's shin from beneath the table, Peter cut in, deciding that living it once was torture enough, "how about we just focus on the game?"

Johnny's face fell at the suggestion. "I cannot believe _this_ is your definition of fun. What's next, a calc class and a two hour tour of Reed's lab?"

Peter leaned forward, "Okay, now that's just rude."

"No, it's sad. Look around you, it's like you're aiming for early retirement."

"Chess is an all-age friendly game."

"Then explain all the old people."

 

Stumped for words, a single grunt was Peter's only acknowledgement of defeat.

An unapologetic shrug was all Johnny had to offer. "Look man, you got a severe case of the NERD. Lucky for you," a smoking hot thumb pressed to his strong chest and a sweet smile streaked his face as his brows jetted for the sky, " _I'm_ the cure."

"Mhm. I see." Peter nodded, feigning interest. "Are you FDA approved?"

"Eh." Johnny shrugged. "Reed's hopeless, he doesn't count- so, really, you're the first test subject."

"Oh, great. The guinea pig. Today must be my lucky day."

"That was sarcasm and I caught that." Johnny side-noted. "The point is," the blond started, "As your superhero crime fighting buddy, it is my job to show you how to have some real fun." He eyed a young blonde at a nearby bench, gesturing his chin toward her, "Now _that_ looks like fun."

 

He had that look on his face, like a child in a candy store, and at that moment Peter knew that he'd lost him. Peter kept his arms crossed over his chest, and when even an exaggerated sigh couldn't draw Johnny's attention back, Peter actually waved his hands about like people do at Lady Gaga concerts only it looked 20 times more ridiculous without the proper setting.

"Hey. HEY!" Johnny came back down to Earth and Peter motioned toward the table, "The chess pieces are collecting dust and quite frankly so am I. Your move."

 

One look at the board and Johnny was whining with that tone he usually reserves for Sue. "Dude, seriously?"

"Seriously."

"I seriously hate this game," Johnny muttered. 

Peter fell back against the chair and snorted, arms intertwining high upon his chest. "Why? Because I'm winning or because it actually requires you to think?"

 

With the motion of his jaw, Peter could see Johnny biting back a no doubt crude remark, one he backed out of in the last minute in favor of a really elaborated eye roll that explored every corner of his eye socket. "How does the horse move again?" he said instead, seeming strangely determined all of a sudden, with only five of his pieces left on the board.

Peter held back his own eye roll because, really, Johnny's been asking him that same question for every other piece before he even makes a move. Controlling his volume so he wasn't yelling at him across the table from all the built up frustration was the real challenge. 

"For the 900th time, it's called a knight and it moves in an L shape," Peter said, struggling to level his voice and careful not to disturb the old timers occupying the surrounding tables.

"You and your fancy words." Johnny's finger danced at the tip of the knight's pointed ear before swapping over to tap on the ball top of a pawn. He couldn't seem to choose as he hopped back and forth between the two pieces like he usually does when he can't decide on a blonde or a brunette, and Peter's patience was wearing thin by the time the third minute rolled around.

 

About ready to blow up, Peter's muscles tensed with his arms coiled close and tight to his chest as he focused on steadying the air he pushed out through his nose. Recalling the many times Peter reminded Johnny not to rush him on his move had Peter biting hard on the insides of his mouth every time he meant to verbally intervene on behalf of speeding up the process.

Five minutes later and Peter nearly jumped out of his seat when Johnny's voice split the silence with a very loud "I choose you, Pickachu!" slamming the black horse down between a white rook and a black pawn, the sleeve of his jacket knocking over a few other pieces at the other end of the board when he pulled his arm back.

Peter twisted his face, relaying his judgement, which Johnny all ready knew before he even said it. "Bad move."

"I'm really getting tired of hearing you say that." That crude remark that had long missed its chance as a burning comeback was still sizzling at the tip of his tongue when Johnny shook his head, blond locks swaying with the motion as Peter swapped in his dark knight for a white rook. Blue eyes stared at the newly filled spot and examined his only four other remaining pieces, all of which were pawns and a very vulnerable king, and mumbled, "Dumbass horse."

 

Peter thought he felt something. Was that sympathy? He was maybe starting to feel just a little bit bad because Johnny really looked like he was actually trying that time. But he couldn't just go easy on him,even if he was his best friend because that would really be doing a great disservice to that 1st place Champions Chess Tournament medallion he won in the 7th grade-- currently framed and mounted proudly on the living room wall, proof that he has a reputation to live up to. Aunt May still brags about it to this day and honestly he'd be lying if he said it didn't make him smile like the proud goof that he is.

 

Johnny was working a frown across his face and Peter hated feeling responsible for it so he tried to convince himself that it really wasn't his fault. It's not like he means to win all the time, Johnny's just really really bad at it. Plus, in all fairness, he could've called checkmate a really long time ago. Like the first two minutes of the game.

 

"You know what?" Johnny said, and really, by the look on his face, Peter should've seen it coming. "I don't wanna play anymore." And with that the leather sleeved arm swiping over the entire board game knocked everything over onto the concrete floor-- and suddenly so much for keeping a low-profile.

"What the heck are you doing?" Peter raced for the precious pieces because do you have any idea how expensive those were? Like 20 bucks a piece. They're antiques!

"A little spring cleaning." Johnny said it all smug just as everyone in the park raced towards their table because yeah whoopty doo it's the Human Torch. This time Peter didn't bother holding back an eye roll.

"If that's what you call cleaning then maybe you should stick to your day job," Peter said to the paper white laces on Johnny's sneakers. He secretly contemplated rubbing dirt on them because no one's shoe laces should be that clean.

"Will do," Johnny shot back, his personally signed autograph on every piece of napkin shoved in his face being the true testimony to his words.

 

On the ground, Peter held up the end of his shirt to serve as a netting to catch the pieces he threw towards his stomach but as the crowd grew-- judging from the number of feet around him that seemed to have doubled-- collecting all his pieces was becoming an impossible task because OW SOMEONE JUST STEPPED ON HIS FINGER!

It's sandwiched between the concrete and the bottom of someone's grease stained timberland boots and internally he's sobbing, screaming and pleading to god, Thor, Thor's daddy, probably the entirety of Asgard itself and every other kind of god he can think of all within the two second interval his poor finger is unwillingly forced to engage in this unholy threesome with no established safe-word.

He's practically dead inside by the time it's granted mercy and released by its treacherous captors. Throbbing and burning red, reflex tells him to enclose it in the palm of his hand but that's when all the chess pieces go spilling to the floor and-- NO RELEX BAD REFLEX BAD!

 

Now he has a broken finger and a tarnished set of antique chess pieces. He stands up, applying pressure to his finger, helplessly watching his chess pieces being kicked away out of sight like a foul soccer play. So scratch that. He has no set of antique chess pieces. He knew he should've left them at home where they would've been safe and sound because everyone knows you never bring your good toys outside to play. 

Peter's face is heating up with anger and a whole lot of regret as he searches Johnny out, finding him right where he'd left him- add a few feets distance between them. If he were an arm length away, Peter'd probably reach out with his good hand and slap that stupid charming smile right off his stupid charming face because NO THIS IS NOT A HAPPY MOMENT ANYONE SHOULD BE SMILING ABOUT!

 

Unsure if he'd hear him or not, Peter's shouting at him anyway, voice carrying out above all the varying shades of hair color swaying in his face and poking him in the eyes. "You owe me a brand new set of chess pieces--and I'm talkin' the expensive kind! Also, I'M NEVER PLAYING CHESS WITH YOU AGAIN!"

 

"Whatever, sore loser!" Flashing a movie star grin over his shoulder, Johnny laughed and Peter just held onto his finger and whatever self control he had left, slowly getting lost in the crowd eating him whole. And suddenly Johnny and the table weren't even a point on the map anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> basically don't ever play chess with johnny storm lmao


End file.
